Simply Irresistible
By NCDavis

Disclaimer: I don't own DragonBall Z or its characters. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and is a small homage to Toriyama-san and Bulma/Vegeta fans. My power level is infinitesimally small. Please don't blast me.

-----------------------------

"Hmm, which one shall it be. Passion Plum? Or maybe the Racy Rendezvous."

Bulma sat on her bed, her foot propped up on the edge. She'd treated herself to a "pamper me" day. A long soak in a hot bubble bath came first, and now her favorite part. Pedicure. Still wrapped up cozy in her bathrobe, her turquoise-blue hair pulled back from her face, she was deep in negotiations with the array of nail colors before her. The decision was critical. After all, it was sandal weather. The wrong choice, and a girl could clash with half her wardrobe. "Of course," she giggled to herself, "I could just get a new wardrobe."

She picked a bottle from the tray and started the delicate process of applying polish to nail. She navigated the length next to the cuticle, a perfect coat almost done . . . .

BOOOOOOM!

Her bedroom was suddenly in a game of fruit-basket turnover, pictures flying off the walls, bottles rattling, pillows tumbling off the bed along with Bulma, who noticed as she righted herself, that she now had a cuticle and a couple of toes striped in Candy Apple Cutie. "What in the world!" Realization dawned in one word.

Vegeta.

Grabbing at clothes now in a heap by her closet, she barely registered what she threw on. She raced down the stairs, out towards a wave of smoke billowing from where Vegeta's ship-turned-gravity training room normally stood. It was deja vu all over again. The last time the ship blew. The last time she went running towards a smoke cloud, trying to ignore her scared, pounding heart. The last time that damn fool Saiyan almost got himself killed.

----------

The training bots surrounded him. They were going to fire. Must fire first. But hard as he tried, he couldn't raise his arm to aim. The buildup of power glowed around him. No. I am a Saiyan. I cannot be beaten by machines. I cannot—

"N—Aaaaah!" Pain slammed Vegeta to his back as he woke. As the wave subsided, he noted the floor felt more like a mattress, and the yellow walls were very flat and very square. This was not his ship.

"So," a female voice sounded in the room, "you've decided to return to the land of the living."

He turned his head. Just as he feared. The blue-haired one. The blonde was amazingly silly, but at least she showed him the proper respect.

"Bah. What a stupid statement. As you can plainly see, I've never left."

She came to stand over him, arms crossed over her chest. "If you could've seen yourself when we pulled your limp carcass out of the rubble, you wouldn't be so sure."

He forced himself to sit up, gritting back the pain. He would not be spoken to this way, at least not while vulnerable on his back. "Surely you've learned by now, Woman, that no mere explosion will kill me. Now, get out of my way. I need to get back to my training."

"WHAT? Hel-lo, what part of getting half crushed did you not understand?" She dared to push him back down on the bed. Of course, she succeeded only because he let her. "Vegeta, you can't keep pushing yourself like this. Or our equipment for that matter. You may not survive another blast."

The situation did seem a bit more grave than the last time, but he'd be damned if he'd let her know that. "If I am seriously injured -- and I'm not saying that I am--"

"You don't have to. Your face says it all."

He growled, "Don't interrupt me, Woman. As I was saying, if I am so injured, it's your father's fault."

That stunned her for a moment. She dropped her arms stiff by her sides, clinching her fists. "How dare you blame my father for your accidents. In what twisted Saiyan reasoning is this his fault."

"It makes perfect sense. If your father's product wasn't so inferior, it would withstand the training of a superior warrior such as myself. Granted, for a human his skills are far better than others of his kind, but still leave much to be desired."

Waves of her fury crashed over him. He had to admit, he enjoyed goading her. She glared at him, her blue eyes glittering with anger. Then he watched, fascinated, as a cold, slow smile spread across her face.

"Nevertheless, Saiyan," she spat the word, "my inferior father is the only person who can help you achieve what you want most in this world. To beat Goku. Excuse me, your precious Kakarrot. So I suggest you behave yourself. Lie there and don't cause any fuss. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll let my father rebuild the gravity room."

"You will let--"

"You heard me pal. And don't think threats will do any good. Fulfill them, and all you will have done is defeated your own ends.

"Besides, training hurt will only delay your progress. Heal first. Gravity room second."

Damn. She was right, and he hated it. He wouldn't give up though. "What could you know. I've seen your idea of training. Stuffing ice cream in your face!"

Too late. She knew she had the upper hand. She waved away his insult. "Get comfy prince," she tossed over her shoulder as she left, "you're going to be there for awhile."

Infernal woman! He let loose an energy blast which dented and singed the wall. Normally it would have barreled through, leaving a nice, wide hole. He let himself relax into the mattress, his adrenaline-rush temper spent. Damn he was weak.

The little Earth woman amazed him. She could show the usual weakness of her kind in one minute, then burn with an intensity a Saiyan female would envy the next. And when she did . . . . Vegeta grinned. When she did, she was glorious. The way her sky-blue eyes darkened to the hue of the sea. The way her breasts rose and fell in her indignity.

Under different circumstances he'd enjoy taming her, but he had more important concerns than rutting some female. Becoming a Super Saiyan. Surpassing Kakarrot. Making sure he, an elite warrior, was the one who got the glory in beating these supposed androids who were on the way. These bothersome delays in his training would not do. The explosions he could handle. The scientist was fairly efficient in rebuilding. But these lags in healing were unacceptable. If only he knew where Kakarrot got those senzu beans. Not that he would ask. There was no way he'd let that third class foot soldier see him like this.

Then it hit him. The idea was so simple. Why hadn't he come up with it before? Hmph, must be that harpy female. Her babbling could addle anyone's wits. If he could remember all the components, he did not doubt Dr. Briefs could recreate one.

Well, Woman, we'll see who has the last laugh.

---------

Bulma inhaled the scent of another beautiful spring day. She'd been visiting an aunt for a few days and had just returned home. As she walked towards her parent's home on the grounds of Capsule Corp, she enjoyed the sun's warmth that promised summer was just around the corner.

She sighed. How many more days would there be like this before the androids came? Then she shook herself. Living in dread wouldn't do anyone any good, and would only give an early victory to the enemy. She just wished she could do more to help. She still thought gathering the Dragon Balls couldn't hurt, but the guys had ixnayed that idea.

There was one thing she could do. Make sure Vegeta lived long enough to fight.

She had never met a more stubborn, opinionated, arrogant jerk. Yet to stop there was to under-appreciate the man. She remembered watching him when Goku had first wished everyone else back to Earth while he stayed behind to fight Frieza. Vegeta's obsession with being the most powerful frightened her at first, but she saw something deeper in his joy at the thought of Frieza's death, something personal. She tried to let her instincts guide her. Hearing his demons as he raved in his nightmares, she knew she'd been right to bring him here. She didn't know his full past, but she knew he was haunted by its darkness. And too proud to show it. A landless, people-less prince used to being lord and master, now beholden to an alien race for his very survival. No wonder he could be so difficult.

Speak of the devil. Vegeta's ship loomed into view. This was a new one. The last one was beyond repair, but Dad had already had another ship built just in case. He'd reinforced it and installed the gravity generator. As soon as Vegeta was well enough, it'd be ready to go. Hmph. He'd love that.

A flash of light caught her eye. For a moment, the spherical glass portals girding the ship glowed, then nothing. Maybe she needed to see the eye doctor. The ship was complete. No one needed to be inside working.

There. Another flash, more intermittent. Bulma dug around her pockets and found her capsule compact. She hoped her air scooter capsule was still inside. Yes! She hit the plunger and poof! Once the scooter expanded, she hopped on, headed towards the ship. Hovering beside one of the portals, she leaned in to look inside. Three battle bots took aim above them. A familiar figure in long black fitted shorts held up his arms, palms up, preparing to counter attack.

She clinched her teeth so tight they hurt. "Stubborn idiot. You won't make it to the androids buddy. I'll kill you myself."

No doubt he had the gravity on full tilt, so she couldn't enter the ship. She tore out full throttle to the one person who could do anything.

----------

"Dad!" She called out in the observatory. "Dad! Where are you?" She found him puttering around a table. "Vegeta's gone into the ship. We have to stop him."

He gave their cat a scratch. "Is something wrong with the ship?"

"No, just that lunkheaded prince. No way he's well enough to be in there training."

"Has he hurt himself again already?" He stroked his chin puzzled. "He was fine this morning."

"That's impossible. He still couldn't sit up when I left without killing himself."

"He has healed up some since then. Amazing recuperative beings those Saiyans."

"Dad, what gives."

He looked down at his shoes, "Well, there is something you don't know yet dear."

Before he could finish, Vegeta strode into the room, a battle bot under each arm.

"Take a look at these, Briefs. They're malfunctioning."

"No you don't, Dad. He won't be needing them or any others." She pointed at the Saiyan. "You are going straight back to bed until you fully recover. The only choice you have is if you stay there willingly or if I have to make something to hold you down."

She expected him to rage. He hated it when she dared to boss the Great Saiyan Prince around. Truth be told, she got a certain kick out of challenging his assumption that all should bow before him. A small pang of disappointed greeted her instead. He didn't yell. He didn't threaten her. He just stared at her, with a smugness that she hoped she'd never see.

"Tsk, Doctor. Haven't you shared the wonderful news with your daughter? Don't be modest. It truly is a great accomplishment for a human."

Her dad looked nervous. "Ahem, I was about to."

"You should be thrilled about this, Woman." Bulma go the sudden feeling Vegeta had no intention of anyone telling her the news except him. This so did not bode well.

The prince moved closer. "I admit, your concerns about my physical state were warranted. So it struck me, if your father could build a gravity room, he could surely build a rejuvenation chamber. Fortunately, we found chemicals here that would suffice."

She wasn't exactly sure what that was, but she didn't like the sound of it.

"And just what does this chamber do?"

"I'm surprised. The word 'rejuvenation' too big for you? You get in, or more often than not are placed in. An oxygen mask is placed over your face. The tank fills with bio fluid that's attuned to the patient's DNA. And there you have it, a body's healed in far less time than it would take under the care of primitive medicine.

"Are you starting to get the picture?"

She was. "So my dad . . . and you went . . . and now . . . ."

His smugness increased. "Exactly."

Her mind for a moment was a jumble, until one thought broke through.

"But--"

"But nothing," he snapped. "Your concerns have been met. You may leave now. My business is with your father."

From that point he ignored her. She had to regroup, even though she hated letting him have the last word. As she exited down the hall, she could think only one thing. He could basically heal himself at will. There'd be nothing to slow down his frantic pace, or temper his obsession, and that couldn't be good.

----------

Bulma entered the lab. It'd been six months since Vegeta had the rejuvenation chamber at his disposal. Her worst fears were coming true. He constantly pushed himself beyond his limits. Her father finally built a gravity room onto a residential annex where he now lived, a room built to take the wear n' tear a Saiyan put on it. Frankly, the grounds crew had grown tired of having to clear away ship rubble. But Vegeta's body wasn't as resistant. He trained now until he could barely stand, if he could stand at all. After every session, sometimes days long, he'd go into the R.C. It hadn't been long before she started noticing his skin had an odd cast to it. He'd become jumpy, snapping at everyone even more so than usual. She'd begun to wonder if the R.C. did more harm than good.

She found her dad by the contraption, tinkering with gauges.

"Dad, I need to talk to you."

"Oh, hello dear. What can I do for you?"

"Take the R.C. apart."

That startled him. "Is something the matter with it?"

"Yeah. It exists."

"I don't think Vegeta would be happy."

She planted her hands on her hips. "I don't care. Right now I'm concerned about his health. I don't know much about this thing, but I have a feeling whoever designed it didn't intend for people to hop in and out of it like a shower."

"Hmm," her father rested his head on his hand. "I can't say I disagree with you there. He does use the chamber more than I'd think wise, and he hasn't seemed himself. However, that could be caused by a number of things. Maybe we should ask Vegeta more about the chamber."

"Oh that will work."

"Now dear, give the young man some credit. He doesn't want to jeopardize his health either. Not to the point where he couldn't fight. Maybe the bio fluid needs tuning. Vegeta would know more than either one of us."

Bulma chewed on her lip. Was she overreacting? "I don't know, Dad. I'm not sure Vegeta's in a rational mindset."

They both turned to the sound of the lab's door sliding open. Bulma gasped. Sweat streamed down Vegeta's sickly grayish skin. He came in bleeding and limping, dragging one leg behind him. His arm hung dead at his side, at an odd angle to his body. He headed straight for them, mumbling to himself. He turned his head back.

"Shut up, I can do it myself."

Bulma looked past him. No one was there.

"Um, Vegeta? Who are talking to?"

He looked at her. "Nappa of course."

Goku had told her about Nappa, Vegeta's once right-hand man. He lost to Goku. As punishment, Vegeta killed him.

Bulma took a good, hard look at Vegeta's eyes. They glistened, almost feverish, as though he saw her and yet didn't. "Where are you going?"

"The rejuvenation chamber."

Over her dead body. If she told him that, though, she'd have a fight to keep him from it. Beat up and half-crazed he may be, but she doubted she'd win. Her dad was right. He wasn't going to be happy, but she had to give herself the best chance possible.

"Okay," she replied, "let me make some final adjustments, then she'll be all ready for you. Meanwhile, let Dad look you over."

He nodded. Her father took his arm to lead him to a chair. She moved next to the R.C. Maybe she could short out the control panel.

She took a quick glance towards them while she picked up a wrench. Vegeta was about to sit down.

"Liar!"

Bulma jumped. Vegeta suddenly had her father by the throat. "You're lying to me! I can smell it. There's nothing wrong with the chamber."

She watched in horror as he threw her father across the room. "Dad!"

Her first instinct was to go to him, but Vegeta was already making his way towards her. There was no time. With every ounce of strength she had, she swung the wrench into the empty tank. On the first swing it cracked. The second swing shattered it, the tinkling sound of glass hitting linoleum music to her ears.

Her euphoria was short lived. Vegeta glared at her, his eyes raving bright. He trembled in a rage she could almost reach out and touch, lightening crackling around him.

She shrunk back. "Vegeta, please. It was for your own good. I swear it."

He said nothing. The flare grew brighter. His eyes held no pupils now, merely white glowing orbs set in a snarling, twisted face. He came closer, a ball of energy growing from his palm. A palm aimed directly at her.

"VEGETAAA!"

Seconds stretched like eternity. Tucked fetal, her arms covering her head, Bulma waited for death. It did not come. Slowly, she uncurled herself. Vegeta lay unconscious in the middle of the tank's debris. Groans came from where her father lay. "You okay?"

"I'll live. I think."

"Just stay still."

Bulma reached the intercom and called for help. Then she made her way to Vegeta. She gently turned him over, cradling the unconscious man in her arms. Stubborn Saiyan. "Vegeta," she sighed, "we have got to stop meeting like this."